


The Fire Will Burn

by arthemida



Category: Football RPF
Genre: Drabble, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-25
Updated: 2012-09-25
Packaged: 2017-11-15 00:45:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 534
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/521264
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/arthemida/pseuds/arthemida
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Happening just after the Spain vs. Croatia match at Euro 2012.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Fire Will Burn

After 95 minutes of torture, the referee finally blew the whistle and Luka couldn’t take it anymore. His knees went weak and he fell down on the grass, his head low between his shoulders. He couldn’t see anything, couldn’t hear anything. He just felt bad, empty. A huge lump crawled up his throat and a ball of disappointment nestled at the bottom of his stomach.

Why couldn’t I do more? Why couldn’t I give more?

The words swirled with the speed of light, clouding his mind. Seconds passed and Luka realized he had to wake up. He heard the cheering of the Spanish fans again and saw the smiles on the faces of their beloved footballers. He forced himself to stand up, his legs still trembling and strolled round the pitch, shaking hands, repeating the same words over and over: “Good game. Great game.”  
Luka was numb. He couldn’t even feel his own teammates’ pats on his back. He didn’t notice when some of them ruffled his hair trying to cheer him up in their own way, feeling as bad themselves. He did everything mechanically, just like after any other game – shook hands, smiled friendly and kept mumbling that it had been a good match. That was the routine.

He took his shirt off and traded it with some Spaniard he couldn’t even recognize. Someone else was there; maybe his teammate, pulling him in a brief embrace, comforting him, telling him that he had played well, that he’d given his best, or something like that. He didn’t care, he just wanted to get off the pitch. Luka thought he was suffocating, But, then he felt fingers softly pinching him below his shoulder blade. A familiar tingling ran down his spine. He turned and an arm slid around his shoulders, drawing him close. Something broke in Luka and he let go. His head fell onto that someone’s broad chest and it felt even more familiar. He didn’t need to look up and see who it was. Luka knew it was Niko. He knew by his scent, by the way his long fingers squeezed his shoulders, by the way he kissed his hair. Luka shut his eyes, stopping the tears from spilling down and pressed his cheek onto Niko’s chest.

“It’s okay. You’re okay,” Niko whispered into Luka’s ear, hugging him closely while they made slow steps towards their fans.

Luka inhaled Niko’s familiar scent one more time and opened his eyes letting Niko guide him for a bit. He clung to Niko and then looked up into his emerald eyes. That was all it took to get back among the living. Niko’s serene and soft smile reflected into his own and they separated, lifting their arms in the air, clapping towards their saddened, but faithful fans.

It would be all right, Luka thought. They would still have a chance to prove themselves. He would have a chance. Soon, they would all see each other again for the next round of qualifications. Time would go by quickly and he would feel good again. He would feel proud and happy and a part of something that is bigger than him. The fire in him would still burn.


End file.
